In Depth Schematics
by KholAndrews
Summary: Harry and Draco fic, rather angsty and quite odd at times.
1. chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own this, I actually don't really want to either.

Warning: I've come to find that it is customary for warnings to be placed on slash fiction, so I am of course indulging in this act. However, I must say that if you don't like Harry/Draco slash you really shouldn't be searching under the Harry and Draco category, I mean that's why it was created right? For our beautiful and exquisite homoerotic fantasies…right? Right?!

Screams ripped and torn form his throat as blood glided in dazzling rivulets down his body.

When his fingers began to grasp for the light that wasn't there and he leaned against the wall for support, Draco knew it was time to stop.

Stars danced before Harry's eyes in a most dismaying pattern as the power forsook him, fleeing and leaving only weakness in its wake, in its place, as replacement gone awry.

"Draco I can't breathe," Harry exhaled weakly, dark lashes lowering onto green eyes.

Draco advanced upon his fellow defense instructor and pressed a hand to the bleeding chest wound, healing it just enough for it to stop bleeding and close, but he couldn't remove the pain.

Pain was their teacher, their keeper, their lover, and their secret, the only thing truly keeping them sane.

"Shall we limp you back down to our rooms now?" Draco queried snarkily, not allowing Harry the satisfaction of seeing any trace of concern; it was part of their sick little game.

Harry coughed weakly, blood splattering on Draco's boots and he grimaced, green eyes darkening. A shaky hand made its way up to his mouth and wiped clumsily.

"Y…y…y…yeah…w…we should…g…go," Harry stammered brokenly. His shaking hand reached for Draco's seeking the only comfort, poor as it was, offered.

"Cloak," Draco reminded gently as he tossed the well-worn invisibility cloak around their shoulders, allowing him an inconspicuous excuse to pull Harry closer and keep him from the ever-present danger of falling down the stairs, well alone that is.

Their rooms were fairly minimalistic by most standards, but they liked that. They appreciated the calm that the pale blues and whites imparted to them; it made them feel momentarily clean and free from the castle's chaos.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry whispered hoarsely before pulling away from Draco and stumbling off to the bathroom in a rather uncoordinated manner.

Draco made his appearance when he heard the water running to signify that Harry was brushing his teeth.

"You need a shower," Draco accused unceremoniously.

Harry spat and then glanced in the mirror to face Draco rather than exert the energy required to actually turn around. "I'd rather not… I'd rather not drown myself to top off this already lovely evening thanks much."

"Do you really think I would let you drown?" Draco scoffed.

"Draco?"

"Shhh…" Draco admonished pressing fingers to Harry's split lips. "We do not show weakness Harry," Draco reminded calmly.

Harry nodded slowly watching the room spin lazily around Draco's pale reflection. Milky white hands moved their way around his tanner cheeks until they obscured his green eyes from view and he was sinking. Deep into the darkness he fell, into the dark that was himself, his soul, and his mind.

He woke to the unmistakable sensation of being crushed and a throbbing head. He suppressed a whimper as he made move to extricate himself from the thick mound of white duvets attempting to suffocate him. His sore limbs screamed out to him as he realized that Draco had thrown himself haphazardly across his chest, head managing to lay just above his navel, breath tickling irritably.

Harry scowled; hating the disorientation that waking in bed always gave him. They had an odd habit of waking entangled on the cold stone at the top of Serpense's tower. It wasn't that they never slept in their great white monstrosity of a bed; it was just that they never came back after practice, not unless one of them had to be peeled form the pavement and cleaned up by the other.

It had been his night, his night to die a bit if only so that he could live a little bit more. He couldn't remember the last time it had happened, but he could only remember having had to clean Draco up twice.

"Ah fuck Draco," Harry cried as a not so tender bite was placed on his abdomen. "As though I'm not sore enough you have to go off and fucking bite me after you appear to have been crushing me, speaking of which you still are."

Draco raised his head up and smirked at Harry. "What don't like the contact?"

"Ordinarily but you're crushing my ribs with that thick skull of yours and even my hair feels like burning," Harry informed with a grimace.

Draco proceeded to crawl up his body much to Harry's dismay. Harry squirmed and struggled against the blonde in a futile attempt to escape even he knew not what. The back of a cool hand made its way to Harry's forehead while its partner brushed away his hair.

"You're feverish," Draco whispered softly, breath ghosting along Harry's cheeks and eyelashes. "You're sick," he stated in what sounded to Harry like amazement.

"And you're still crushing me," Harry pointed out smartly.

Draco flipped himself off of Harry but refused to remove all contact between himself and the dark haired boy, his arm snaked around the narrow waist and his hand traced the smooth facial features idly, a gesture uncharacteristic of the Draco that Harry had come to know so well. A gentleness that he had always craved but never offered nor received.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco asked softly, sounding almost hurt.

"Tell you what?" Harry responded in confusion.

"That you were sick."

"I've been busy and I didn't think you would care," Harry replied honestly.

Draco cringed at his own ability to ignore the obvious.

"You should have told me that you were sick," Draco reproached.

"So you could avoid being contaminated by my dirty disease?"

"You don't take concern well do you?" Draco asked in fascination.

"Draco my head really hurts and I think it's going to shatter."

Draco kissed his warm cheek in response. "I'll get you something for that."

"It's just a headache, I'm being melodramatic, don't worry about it," Harry tried vainly to excuse his previous words.

Draco's mercury colored eyes bored into Harry's green.

AN: I have more, oh so much more but I couldn't find a good stopping place, the next chapter Draco will tell a most fascinating story and then it will get into the actual fic…not as though any of you care. I really appreciate feedback because I have no home and no love….


	2. chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own this, I actually don't really want to either.

Warning: I've come to find that it is customary for warnings to be placed on slash fiction, so I am of course indulging in this act. However, I must say that if you don't like Harry/Draco slash you really shouldn't be searching under the Harry and Draco category, I mean that's why it was created right? For our beautiful and exquisite homoerotic fantasies…right? Right?!

It had all started a few years prior, and as was the way with most things between them, Draco had been the instigator.

He had been watching Harry for days, hours, since the start of term.

Potter was on a downward spiral, that was very clear to Draco, he didn't eat properly, he didn't appear to be sleeping either, and his friends seemed worried.

So Draco had approached him, cornered him in an empty hallway really.

And he had…he had…he had…

He had gripped Harry by the shoulders in that dark corridor and slammed him hard against the wall and kissed him. He had kissed him in a shockingly violent manner, managing to draw blood even before he spoke.

"Potter you taste of pain," he had whispered roughly in the other boy's ear before turning abruptly on his heel and leaving a stunned young man in his wake.

Harry had collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched Draco retreat. Six hours later when Draco returned he was still there.

"Potter," Draco greeted calmly.

"Shut up," Harry responded dully.

"Tell me you haven't been sitting here for six hours," Draco drawled.

"Malfoy shut up."

The lack of malice in Potter's startling and Draco realized that he would have to take a bit more action than he had prior.

"Get up Potter," Draco commanded only to have Potter continue to stare blankly up at him, green eyes devoid of emotion.

Draco sighed and bent down to pull the other boy to his feet, appalled at the lack of weight and resistance.

"I don't have the energy for this Malfoy, whatever game it is that you have decided to play, I don't want to," Harry informed him in a horrifically resigned manner.

"Are you cold Potter?" Draco asked with concern.

"Pardon?" Harry responded in confusion, struggling suddenly against Draco's increasingly firm grip.

"I asked if you were cold," Draco repeated patiently. "It's 3 a.m. now and you've been sitting on that floor since at least nine, I'm not entirely certain how long you were there prior to that but judging by your mysterious absence at dinner I will simply take it upon myself to assume that you were here."

"Are you stalking me Malfoy?"

"In a manner of speaking Potter, yes I'm stalking you, but in doing so I am observing your well being and interfering when I feel it is necessary, well ideally that is how my system works."

"Oh my fucking god this is an intervention!" Harry cried in amazement, thin face lightning up at the realization.

"Potter," Draco warned.

"No, this is too good, the Malfoy heir concerned for my well being! This really must be some kind of distorted parodied dream," Harry mocked.

Draco scowled and pressed Harry back up against the wall. "Don't you think it odd that I am the only one to notice your behaviour Potter? Don't you find it even the slightest bit odd?" Draco demanded, black clad body mere inches from Harry's.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer," Harry retorted.

"And if I were to say that I wasn't your enemy Potter?" here Draco paused. "What would you do? Have I upset the delicate balance upon which you have constructed your world? They have taught you to view us with a childlike simplicity in which we all play our parts, are immediately typecast upon our first appearance. They're manipulating us Potter, like puppets. I cannot play this game anymore Potter, I can't play the petty school rivalry, it's killing me."

Draco's breath smelled liked mint whereas the rest of him smelled of something expensive with an undertone of cigarette smoke.

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he regarded Draco as something more than just a rival for the first time, as a person.

Harry's hand reached out instinctively to touch the soft cotton of Draco's shirt, to seek out smooth white flesh, anything.

Before Draco could so much as blink he found himself pressed against the frigid corridor wall, Potter's slight advantage in height working to its full potential. Draco hadn't expected that, his eyes widened as he struggled against the rising panic triggered by his loss of control.

"Malfoy." Harry's words brushed along Draco's skin and he tightened his arms around himself protectively.

He still wasn't fully recovered from his illness, what had he been thinking approaching Potter twice in one evening, especially when both of them were so obviously emotionally unstable.

"So we call it a truce Malfoy? We just disregard years of rivalry? Is it really that simple?"

"Yes," it was a firm and weighty proclamation that slipped past Draco's lips.

"You better not be saying this just to get in my pants Malfoy," Harry warned.

"Potter you're the one holding me against a wall," Draco pointed out with a smirk.

"I never said I wasn't trying to get into you're pants."

"Not tonight Potter, maybe some other time, I really haven't the energy."

There was a strange aura of desolation that surrounded Draco and all that Harry could make of it was wrongness. Harry's brain was virtually screaming at him that something was wrong with Malfoy.

"It's not something that you want to know Potter so please don't ask."

"But I…" Harry began only to be quickly cut off.

"I know you can feel it… I…I…I'm mildly empathic I suppose you could say and sometimes my emotions bleed into the atmosphere, well it's like that with everyone but you usually can't tell… but…within close confines it can sometimes be hard to miss."

"So you feel emotions?"

"Not really. I'm not an empath…I…I just have tendencies. It's rather sporadic but I'm supposed to be able to get a fairly clear reading through touch sometimes if I concentrate, but I wouldn't know… Not very demonstrative," Draco attempted to clarify as he began to feel increasingly uncomfortable, pressed against the wall as he was.

"You seemed quite demonstrative earlier," Harry pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

Draco sighed platinum hair falling into his eyes.

"There's more to this than you're letting on Malfoy isn't there?"

AN: I got reviews…. wow…. that's…so…demonstrative of you! I think I like this whole review system… I've gotten a new home, staked myself out a bench in the redwood forest, kicking it with the banana slugs, quite the thrill. I have a lot more of this written, so if you want it just ask. If you have any questions feel free to ask, I know it's fairly confusing at first but that was kind of my points. Oh yes and for the reviewer that asked, schematics can be a type of plan, but that isn't necessarily what I meant by the title, don't worry so much about it.

Thank you review people!


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